


I would live a thousand years to stay by you

by Mful



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, Immortals killing each other, M/M, when the smut comes it will be consensual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25626949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mful/pseuds/Mful
Summary: A story of two immortals finding each other, hating each other, killing each other, and loving each other. In other words, how Joe and Nicky fell in love.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 33
Kudos: 119





	1. How many times has it been now?

Nicolo let his helmet fall to the ground and lifted his hand to his left ear. Dampness seeped through the glove. Blood. He had been so fixated on the battle that he hadn’t seen the Seljuk warrior sneaking up behind him before he had struck him in the head with a maze. Nicolo glanced at his helmet on the ground. There was a huge dent on the side. Thankfully, he had survived the blow with only a scrape. 

Nicolo glanced around. The sounds of the battlefield drowned every other noise, and he wanted to make sure no one else was coming towards him – ready to sink their axes in his back or knifes in his neck. 

But no one else was paying attention to him. Everyone had their own battles to fight, and no one cared about a single foot soldier. Nicolo tore his eyes away from the battlefield, and back to the man who had struck him. The Seljuk warrior stood in front of him tall and proud. He had ditched his maze and was now wielding a huge battle axe in his hands. His armor was soaked in blood.

He was circling Nicolo slowly, like a predator trying to figure out the best angle to attack. No doubt this man had killed more men than Nicolo could even count. And he would be next.

Nicolo bettered his grip on his sword. He had lost his shield somewhere in the battlefield. The sword would have to do on its own. Although he didn’t really know what good it would do against an axe that was almost his size.

The Seljuk warrior softened his footsteps and narrowed his eyes slightly. He quickly glanced at the battle going on around them, trying to figure out if their fight would be interrupted. If someone would come to help his prey.

Nicolo almost wanted to tell him to just get it over with. No one would have the time to worry about him.

The battle had been going on for a couple of hours now. After careful preparations and a long journey, the tensions had been high. There had been no words, no attempts to solve this diplomatically. On the contrary, both sides had been itching to get on with the massacre. Both sides knew that they would never come to an agreement. They knew that neither side would kneel before the other. Because both had God on their side. 

As the battle had begun, the Crusaders had attempted to fight as an actual army. The archers had attacked first, then the Cavalry, and lastly the foot soldiers. The generals had been trying to keep their men in line, in formation, but quickly the blind hatred and adrenaline had taken a hold of everyone, and their army had scattered around the battlefield. Everyone only fighting for themselves. 

The Crusader’s army was made of Roman and French warriors and priests. Those who had the skills and experience, had been appointed to lead. The pope had loaned his personal army to the cause, and from an outsider’s point of view, the army was impressive. However, most of the army was made of the common folk. Poor Christians, who had nothing to lose, who had been promised gold and glory, and of course a place in heaven. How would an army like that fare against the Seljuk’s, who had been fighting their whole lives? 

Nicolo had some fighting experience. Because of his upbringing in the church he had been favored by the pope and had been granted a place in his army. Not anything important, but a place, nonetheless. This was however his first proper battle, and the fighting style of the Seljuk’s differed much of the Roman’s.

Nicolo steadied his feet on the ground and slowly placed his sword in front of him. Ready to take on the Seljuk’s attack whenever he would decide to strike. The sounds of the battlefield faded into the background, as his heartbeat got louder in his ears. The Seljuk watched his movements closely.

And suddenly he lunged forward. 

Nicolo didn’t have the time to do anything, except bring up his sword, before he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He heard the Seljuk grunt something and then everything went black.

\---

Nicolo had never been in so much pain in his life. 

He remembered when he was a child, an old nun in the monastery used to hit him with a stick whenever he would get a phrase wrong in his Latin studies. He remembered the blunt hit of a training sword smacking him in the head when training with the other soldiers. He remembered the throbbing pain when a horse had kicked him. None of them compared to the excruciating, sharp pain that was now residing in his chest. He felt like someone had...

Had hit him with an axe.

Nicolo shot his eyes open and smacked his hand on his chest. It felt wet, and there was a huge tear in his chainmail, but the skin felt intact. He burrowed his brow. He could have sworn the Seljuk had struck him. 

Nicolo blinked a few times, looking up at the dark sky. He was laying on his back, the grass beneath him soaked in blood. He didn’t know how long he had laid there, but the sounds of battle had quieted significantly. He could hear the clinking of swords in the distance, but it seemed like the battle had moved on from where he was laying. Nicolo took a few deep breaths, then slowly sat up. The pain in his chest was mostly gone, only a dull ache remaining. 

As he sat up, he saw the dark eyes that were looking at him.

The Seljuk warrior was in front of Nicolo, on his knees, hunched forward. He was also holding his chest. There was a huge tear in his leather armor, but no wounds on his skin. He was holding in his hand Nicolo’s sword. The battle axe laid on the ground between them. 

Nicolo swallowed slowly. He stared at the man in front of him. The Seljuk had taken of his helmet, or maybe it had fallen of, and the dark curls were glued to his forehead. Wet with sweat and blood. His dark beard had also been soiled in blood. Nicolo wondered if it was the man’s own. 

The Seljuk narrowed his eyes, clearly calculating his next move. Nicolo knew he should have taken advantage of his confusion and run away, get some help, or at least a weapon, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from those dark eyes. The Seljuk was trying to mask his confusion, but Nicolo could see in his eyes that he was hesitating, battling with himself whether to back down, or attack Nicolo again. 

Nicolo glanced at the battle axe on the ground, wondering if he would be fast enough to grab it. Or if he even had the strength to lift it up. The Seljuk’s gaze followed his own to the axe, and he realized what Nicolo was thinking. 

Before Nicolo could do anything, the Seljuk had already pierced his chest with the sword. As he fell back to the ground, Nicolo wondered if the tear in the Seljuk’s armor was his doing. 

\---

Nicolo opened his eyes. The sky was still dark, and he could still hear the distant sounds of battle. He hadn’t been out for long. 

Carefully, without raising his head from the ground, Nicolo shifted his head ever so slightly, to get a better look of his surroundings. He noticed his sword laying on the ground next to him and started to reach for it, while moving his gaze around the field.

The Seljuk warrior was sitting on the ground close to him, back turned against him, cleaning his battle axe from blood. He was muttering something under his breath. Nicolo spoke a little Persian, but the man was speaking quickly with a heavy dialect, so he wasn’t sure what the Seljuk was saying. He could however pinpoint a couple swearwords that passed the man’s lips. 

Slowly, making sure not to make any noise at all, Nicolo rose from his resting place on the bloody grass. He grabbed his sword from the ground and stalked closer to the Seljuk. The man probably saw his reflection on his axe, as he quickly spun around, but he didn’t have time to do anything, as Nicolo had already buried his sword in the man’s neck.

The Seljuk’s eyes widened in horror. He tried to yell, but could only produce a gruesome gurgling noise, as Nicolo pulled his sword out. A fountain of blood shot out of his neck, and his eyes rolled back in his head. He fell to the ground face-first. 

Nicolo kneeled beside the man, breathing heavily. He let his sword fall to the ground.

How in tarnation was he still alive?

Nicolo closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath. He had no idea what had happened, he was sure the Seljuk had killed him – twice – but here he was. Sitting in the middle of a battlefield, only corpses around him.

He grabbed his thighs, giving his hands something to do, trying to stop them from shaking. He didn’t know what he should do next. He dreaded going back to his general. Having to explain why he was the only one left alive while everyone else in his troop had died. Why his chainmail was torn to pieces, but he had no scratch in him. 

Nicolo took one last shaky breath before opening his eyes just in time to see an axe coming straight towards him. 

\---

As Nicolo woke up for the third time, he realized that he was moving. Well, he was staying still, but someone was moving him. He opened his eyes and saw the back of a dark leather armor staring back at him. He pulled his head back and saw leather boots walking on bloody grass. Corpses passed by every so often, both Crusader and Seljuk’s.

Someone was carrying him on their shoulder.

Nicolo tried to move his arms but realized they were tied behind his back; his legs were also tied up. He also realized that whoever had captured him had stripped him of his chainmail, leaving him in only a thin shirt and trousers. They had even taken his boots.

Nicolo huffed in annoyance and suddenly his captor stopped walking. Nicolo held his breath, realizing that he had fucked up as his captor dropped him to the ground like a sack of old potatoes. Nicolo yelped as the air from his lungs was knocked out. 

The last thing he saw was the blade of an ornated hunting knife.

\---

Nicolo could feel his consciousness trying to fight its way back to him, but before he could take a hold of it, there was a sharp pain, and it slipped away.

\---

When Nicolo woke up for the fifth time, he didn’t open his eyes. He tried to keep his breathing calm and quiet and made sure to not move a single muscle. His captor would surely try to kill him again when he realized that the Crusader was still alive. Nicolo didn’t really have the energy to try and figure out why exactly he was still alive. First, he would have to get away from his captor, then he would think. 

Nicolo tensed the muscles in his arms ever so slightly. He realized that they were still tied up, as were his legs. However, he was not being carried anymore, in fact he was sitting. There was something hard and prickly pressed against his back – possibly an old tree – that he was tied to. Nicolo tried to grit his teeth, but there was something in the way. Some type of cloth in his mouth, preventing him from calling for help.

Not that anyone would come to help him since most of his comrades were probably already dead.

He took a quiet, deep breath, and the smell of smoke and cooked meat crept up his nose. Suddenly he realized the emptiness in his stomach and hunger started to make its home inside his body. He had eaten a lean breakfast of grits in the morning of the battle. He had no idea what time – or day – it was now.

At that moment, his stomach decided to betray him and sent out a low growl.

“You can stop pretending to be asleep now”, a calm, pleasant, voice said in rough Greek. Nicolo recognized that voice instantly. He opened his eyes slowly, blinked a few times adjusting his sight to the dark, and took in his surroundings.

They were in a forest, tall trees surrounding them in every direction. Nicolo glanced upwards and noted that he had indeed been tied into a tree. He had never been very talented in botany – much to the disappointment of the nun’s in his monastery – but he was almost certain that the tree he was tied to was a cedar tree. Nicolo looked through the twisted branches and green leaves, and saw only a dark, black sky. There were no stars.

He dropped his chin and moved his gaze to meet his captor’s. To no surprise it was the Seljuk warrior he had fought in the battlefield. The man was sitting on a rock in front of a campfire and was roasting some animal on it. Possibly a rabbit. Nicolo wasn’t sure since the animal was skinned.

Nicolo glanced around them one more time, searching for the man’s comrades, but there were none. They were alone. Nicolo looked back at his captor.

The Seljuk had taken of his armor and was wearing a high-collared tunic. The edges of the sleeves were ornated with a colorful thread, and on his waist was resting a leather belt, which was also decorated – with metal plaques. A hunting knife was hanging from the belt and a familiar battle axe was resting on the ground next to the Seljuk.

Nicolo swallowed. He wasn’t too keen on becoming acquainted with the axe again. 

Although the Seljuk didn’t look very eager to use his maiming skills on him again. He was sitting relaxed on the rock, lazily turning the rabbit over the fire, glancing at his captive every so often. He didn’t really have any reason to worry anyway. The man had tied up Nicolo so tight, there was no way he was getting out of his restraints. 

Nicolo huffed in annoyance and watched as the Seljuk took his meal out of the fire and proceeded to eat it on front of him. Nicolo didn’t really expect his captor to give him any food, but he was almost certain the man had waited for him to wake up before eating his meal. Just to mess with him.

The Seljuk took his time enjoying his meal, while keeping eye contact with Nicolo. He had this intensive look in his dark eyes, which made Nicolo tense. When the Seljuk was finished with his meal, he pulled out his goatskin bag and proceeded to drink the continents. Nicolo could swear his own mouth got even dryer. 

The Seljuk shot a couple amused looks at Nicolo before standing up. He dropped the goatskin on the rock he had been sitting on and walked in front of his captive. The Seljuk kneeled before him, and Nicolo noted in relief that the man had left his axe by the fire.

His captor pulled out the hunting knife from his belt and pressed it lightly against Nicolo’s skin. He had calm smile on his face, but Nicolo could see the anger behind his eyes. For whatever reason, he wasn’t lashing out yet.

“I’m going to take of the gag and you’re going to answer some questions. Or else I’ll kill you”, the Seljuk explained with that soft smooth voice that would make any woman leave their husbands in the spot. But Nicolo had seen what the man could do in a battlefield. He didn’t underestimate his words. One way or another Nicolo knew he would end up dead. Again.

That didn’t seem so scary anymore.

Nicolo nodded his head slowly, indicating to the man that he could take the cloth off. The Seljuk gave him a one more warning look, before lifting his free hand slowly and pulling the cloth out of Nicolo’s mouth.

Nicolo didn’t call out for help. There wasn’t anyone who could help him anyway. When the Seljuk realized this, he smirked just a bit, and his shoulders relaxed as he put his hands down. 

“Now tell me boy,” the man started and Nicolo frowned at the word. There was no way he was more than a couple of years younger than the Seljuk, “Why aren’t you dead?” the Seljuk hummed in a low voice.

“Well you’re not dead either”, Nicolo huffed in annoyance. 

The Seljuk just looked at him for a while, not saying anything, studying his face. Then he lifted up the hunting knife.

“Wrong answer.”

\---

As Nicolo came back to life, he realized that it was getting easier each time. The pain was still there, but it was disappearing quicker than before. He opened his eyes and saw the Seljuk still in front of him, cleaning up his knife into the cloth that had been in Nicolo’s mouth just a moment ago. He must not have been dead for more than a couple of minutes.

“That was fast”, the Seljuk noted, not lifting his gaze from his knife. Nicolo didn’t answer. As much as he was getting used to the whole resurrection thing, that didn’t mean that he suddenly liked getting stabbed every other minute.

“Now let’s try this again.” The Slejuk threw the cloth somewhere behind him. “Why aren’t you dead?” Dark eyes pierced his own, and Nicolo didn’t feel like making any wise remarks this time. 

“I don’t know.” He tried to sound neutral, hoping the knife wouldn’t come to greet his intestines again. The Seljuk wasn’t satisfied with that.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” he asked, the knife starting to hover towards Nicolo again.

“I mean that I don’t know”, Nicolo replied, eyeing the knife nervously, “It’s not like anyone’s killed me before, I didn’t know that would happen.”

The Seljuk’s eyes narrowed and Nicolo braced himself for another stab and squeezed his eyes shut. When the hit didn’t come, Nicolo peeked through his eyelids. The other man was staring at the sky. Nicolo relaxed his shoulders and opened his eyes. Maybe the Seljuk had finally realized that killing him didn’t improve the situation.

The man was muttering something in Persian again. Nicolo caught the word ‘heathen’, but the man had such heavy dialect that he could have been whispering a recipe for a rabbit stew and Nicolo wouldn’t have known.

Nicolo waited for the Seljuk to finish his monologue and glanced at the knife again. It was hovering in front of his stomach. Nicolo hoped that the Seljuk wouldn’t decide to stab him there. A knife to the stomach wouldn’t kill him instantly, instead it would be an excruciating, long death. Nicolo swallowed and pulled his gaze back to his captor, who was now looking at him silently. 

“How do I kill you?” the Seljuk asked in Greek, cocking his head to the side. His eyes had grown even darker, the calm smile was nowhere to be found. Nicolo sighed.

“I don’t know.”

The Seljuk didn’t stab him.


	2. Leap of faith

Nicolo tried to ignore the loud protests of his stomach but his intestines had decided that after all that stabbing, they deserved some food. 

After their riveting verbal exchange, his captor had disappeared into the forest for what had felt like hours. The fire had burned out and Nicolo had fallen asleep cold and hungry. He had been wakened by the loud cacophony in his stomach, only to find out that he was still tied to that damn cedar tree.

Nicolo let a quiet sigh slip through his lips. He opened his eyes and noticed that the darkness had become a little less... dark. The sun must have started to rise, but it was still below the horizon. The air was prickly and cool. 

Nicolo glanced at his captor, who had returned from the forest and was now sleeping next to the extinguished campfire. The Seljuk was buried under a thick fur cloak, snoring quietly in his sleep.

For the first time in his life Nicolo felt like God was laughing at him. 

He banged his head against the tree that had become his prison. The dull pain distracted him from the hunger and thirst. He tried to move his freezing fingers. They were stiff but still responded to his commands.

Well it’s not like he could die from this. It still sucked though. 

Nicolo closed his eyes, trying to fall back to sleep, but his body was at its limits and he couldn’t calm his mind. Dark thought about his newly found immortality were trying to creep up in his consciousness. He swatted them away like a swarm of mosquitoes, but they lingered there, laying just below the surface.

Nicolo didn’t know how long he had sat there, eyes closed. He only knew that he hadn’t fallen asleep. He had been on the border of sleep and awake, some strange state of hibernation where he wasn’t fully conscious, but his mind wasn’t resting either.

He woke up to the smell of smoke.

Nicolo shot his eyes open. He blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes used to the sudden brightness. The sun had finally risen.

He looked at the fireplace that was burning again, to his delight. He didn’t feel so cold anymore, and a smile sneaked its way up on his face. His muscles still ached from the cold and stillness, but he could feel the warmness spreading inside his body. 

His smile quickly vanished though, as he realized his captor was cooking breakfast by the fire. 

“I suppose you didn’t make enough for two.” Nicolo knew he should have probably kept his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help himself. The situation was starting to seriously piss him off.

The Seljuk glanced at him and snorted. The smile had appeared back on his lips, and there was a strange gleam in his eye. It pissed off Nicolo even more.

“What? You’re not going to gut me the first thing in the morning?” Nicolo wished he still had that cloth in his mouth, that way he couldn’t say stupid shit that would earn him a knife in the face.

Or an axe.

The Seljuk just chuckled and picked up a cooked fish from the fire. The bastard had waited for him to wake up again before starting to eat. Nicolo tore his eyes away from the food and tried to think of something else. 

“You’re pretty funny for a guy that’s tied up to a tree”, the Seljuk said in his smooth voice, forcing Nicolo’s attention back to him.

“Yeah, well I had all night to think about witty comebacks.”

_Shut up you idiot!_

Nicolo had no idea where the words kept coming from. His brainpower was completely zero, and he was so exhausted he could barely move his lips, yet the voice coming out was definitely his own. He hoped the Seljuk would think he was delirious and not take him seriously.

Nicolo peeked at the man in question, who seemed to be in a suspiciously good mood. The Seljuk just laughed at his words and finished his breakfast. Nicolo kind of wished that the man would just kill him again. At least then he wouldn’t have to watch the other eat. Although maybe that was the Seljuk’s plan. Annoy him to death.

Nicolo sighed and let his head rest against the coarse surface of the tree. Oh, what he wouldn’t give for a soft bed. 

Or a bath.

Nicolo glanced down at his “white” shirt. It had been dyed red and brown by blood and dirt. He felt his hair sticking to his head like a helmet; that too no doubt coated in a mixture of blood and sweat. He didn’t know what he looked like, but he could smell himself. And it wasn’t pleasant.

Nicolo glanced at the Seljuk who was drinking from his goatskin bag. The man looked as fresh as daisies, probably had cleaned himself off in a nearby river.

After finishing his drink, the Seljuk looped the goatskin into his belt and rose from the rock he had been sitting on. Nicolo watched as the man collected his things and started to put on his leather armor again. Nicolo noted the blood spatters and the long tear in the chest-piece. He couldn’t remember if it was his doing. The whole battle was a blur in his mind. He had died so many times it was hard to keep track of the memories. 

As the Seljuk adjusted his armor, Nicolo closed his eyes. Every muscle and bone in his body was aching, his stomach was screaming so loud he couldn’t hear his thought, and his mind was on fire. He was more tired than ever, and he didn’t know what he had done to deserve it. What sin had been so grave that he had been forsaken, cast to the hands of the Seljuk, not being able to die. Not being able to escape this torture.

Nicolo took a deep breath and lowered his head. He couldn’t really kneel in his position; it was the best he could do. 

_“Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum...”_ Nicolo whispered under his breath, _“Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra...”_

The Seljuk noticed. He froze in the middle of fastening his belt, looking at Nicolo.

_“Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris...”_ Nicolo hurried his words, trying to force them out of himself quicker than ever before. The Seljuk started walking towards him.

_“Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo...”_

The Seljuk was now in front of him. The man kneeled, dark eyes forcing Nicolo to lift his own gaze.

_“Amen”_ , Nicolo breathed out the last word. The Seljuk didn’t say anything. They stayed like that for a while, just looking at each other.

After what had felt like an eternity, the Seljuk finally broke the silence.

“You think your God will hear you here?” the man asked, piercing Nicolo with his gaze. Nicolo swallowed slowly. His throat was so dry it was starting to hurt.

“My God will hear me anywhere”, Nicolo whispered. He didn’t have the strength to speak loudly anymore. The Seljuk shook his head and looked up at the tree behind his captive.

“This is our sacred forest”, the man said firmly, “Your God has no place in here.”

“God is everywhere.”

“Not in here.”

Nicolo closed his mouth. He didn’t have the strength nor the willpower to start a debate with the man. The Seljuk had other plans though.

“Your God has abandoned you.”

That calm, soothing voice stabbed Nicolo harder than any sword or knife ever could.

“Your God doesn’t want you in heaven, that’s why he doesn’t let you leave this earth.”

Nicolo closed his eyes. He could feel burning behind them. The thoughts that he had been trying to keep at bay, suddenly jumped at the surface after the Seljuk had spoken his mind.

No. He would not go down that easily.

Nicolo snapped his eyes open and looked at the dark eyes, that had creeped up closer. If Nicolo could move his arms, he could have easily touched the other man’s face.

“If my God has forsaken me, then so has yours”, Nicolo hissed. To his surprise, the Seljuk didn’t even blink at his remark. His eyes were unwavering.

“I know”, he answered, voice sure and clear. 

Nicolo held his breath. He had no idea what to say to that. The Seljuk didn’t say anything more either. Instead he pulled the knife from his belt. Nicolo flinched a little, waiting for a sharp pain as a punishment for his words... But it didn’t come.

The Seljuk swung his knife a bit, and the ropes that were holding Nicolo’s hands were cut loose. He was so bewildered by the other man’s actions that he didn’t take advantage of the situation. He didn’t try to run or wrestle the knife off his captor’s hands. Instead he just watched in confusion, as the Seljuk placed the knife back in its sheath, lifted his right hand and rested it on Nicolo’s shoulder.

“No hard feelings?” the Seljuk asked, that calm smile back on his lips. 

Nicolo didn’t have time to answer as he was suddenly yanked forward as the Seljuk threw him to the ground. He sputtered for air and spat a few grass straws out of his mouth as the other man climbed on his back and grabbed his wrists.

“What the hell!” Nicolo gasped for air, his head was spinning from the sudden movement and he felt sick.

“Forgive me”, the Seljuk hummed, although his voice was not apologetic at all, “But I can’t have you running around freely.”

Nicolo whined quietly at the other man’s rough touch, but he let his head fall to the ground. There was no point in fighting his captor. At his current state he couldn’t even win in a fight against a tiny rabbit, let alone an experienced warrior. 

The Seljuk tied up Nicolo’s hands with the remainders of the rope, before climbing off his back. Nicolo waited as the other man took the knife from the ground and cut off the rope around his legs. 

Nicolo was breathing heavily, his cheek smushed against the wet, cold grass. There was a rock right beneath him, poking at his ribs, but he didn’t move. He waited for his captor to make a move first, but the Seljuk just stood there, staring at him.

“Well aren’t you going to get up”, the man finally asked. 

Nicolo pulled his head back and glanced at the man standing beside him. He waited for a while, but the Seljuk didn’t make any moves to manhandle him again. Nicolo narrowed his eyes and slowly gathered his legs under himself and rose up. He had some difficulties with that though. Since his co-ordination skill had apparently taken a nosedive during the last 24 hours thanks to his malnourished state, he stumbled in his feet and almost fell right back to the ground. The Seljuk grabbed him by the waist, keeping him steady, and helped him get up properly.

Nicolo almost thanked him. He caught himself just at the last minute and snapped his mouth shut. There was no way he was thanking his captor.

After making sure that Nicolo wouldn’t stumble again, the Seljuk released his waist and took a step back. He hovered near the Crusader though, ready catch him again if need be.

Nicolo had never been more annoyed in his life.

He took a few shaky steps, forcing his legs to get used to walking again. He felt dizzy and tired, but he tried to make it look like he was fine. He didn’t want the Seljuk to knock him out and carry him on his shoulders again. 

Nicolo somehow managed to convince the other man that he would stay on his feet, so the Seljuk let him be and walked back to the fire. He put out the fire and grabbed his ridiculously large battle axe from the ground. Nicolo watched as the man swung the axe on to his back and secured it there with leather straps. Nicolo had no idea what the axe weighed, but it wasn’t any wonder why the man was so strong if he carried that thing with him everywhere.

The Seljuk turned around to face Nicolo and gave him a knowing smile. Show off. 

“Shall we?” the man asked, waving his hand at a little trail in between the trees. 

Nicolo huffed and forced his legs to move again. He waddled over to the path, the Seljuk following right behind him. Nicolo tried to dodge the tiny rocks on the ground, but his naked feet still somehow managed to step on most of them. He cursed quietly under his breath when he stepped on an especially prickly pinecone. The Seljuk didn’t say anything, just followed him quietly.

Nicolo was tempted to make a remark about the fact that the other man had left his boots at the battlefield, but then decided against it. If he started to run his mouth too much the man would probably just knock him out. 

They walked like that for a while in complete silence. Nicolo had no idea where they were going, or what would happen to him once they reached their destination, but he didn’t really have the energy to even think about that. He was just concentrating on not tripping up on the uneven trail. Bugs were starting to swarm around them – undoubtedly attracted to the smell of blood – but Nicolo couldn’t swat them away. He just took a deep breath and tried to force his eyes to stay open. 

After what had felt like an hour of walking, they arrived at a cliff. It wasn’t very steep; they would probably manage to maneuver it down to the valley. Or at least they would if Nicolo wasn’t already battling with his balance. He had no confidence in his climbing skills at the moment, and the sharp rocks that lined the cliff’s wall didn’t look too tempting.

He only hoped that his captor wasn’t contemplating on just throwing him over the edge.

The Seljuk in question had moved from his spot behind Nicolo and was now hovering by the said edge, looking down at the valley. His brow was burrowed, and he was probably trying to come up with a plan to get them both down.

As Nicolo watched his captor dance around the edge, he started to feel a little glimmer of hope growing inside his chest. He moved his legs slowly – making sure not to make any sound – he made his way quietly behind his captor. 

Nicolo didn’t know how the Seljuk had sensed him, but he suddenly spun around. It was too late though, and the man knew it. His eye widened as he realized what was about to happen.

Nicolo leaned in with all his strength and pushed the Seljuk over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nicky strikes back! Thank you to everyone who commented and left a kudos in the last chapter, and please leave a comment if you liked this one :) Next chapter will be from Joe’s point of view, so we’ll get to hear his side of the situation ;)


	3. Smoke pillars rising

When Yusuf had been 7-years old, he had fallen off from a horse. 

He had gotten into a fight with his older brothers, because they had taunted him about him being too small to ride. He had ridden on a horse before of course, but not on his own. He had always been with his father or one of his brothers. Back then Yusuf had been shorter than his peers, and he had to constantly prove himself to be as good as them. When his brothers had questioned his horse-riding skills, he had felt the need to prove them wrong.

So, when the night had come, he had snuck out and stolen his father’s war horse. Because why not? If he were to prove his skills, no ordinary horse would do. It would have to be the biggest horse around. 

Long story short he had fallen off from the horse and broken his collarbone and arm.

Now that Yusuf was laying on the base of the cliff – where the Crusader had pushed him – he was remembering that incident as clear as a day. He had heard the same crunch of bones, felt the same piercing pain, and fallen to the same deep unconsciousness, when his body had smacked to the rocks underneath the cliff. Yusuf didn’t know if he had died or just hit his head hard enough to knock him out. Not that it mattered anyway, dying had no meaning to him anymore.

Yusuf stared at the sky, waiting for his bones to fully heal. There were no clouds to be seen and the sun was shining brightly. He tried to listen for any sounds that would indicate if the Crusader was still on the cliff or if he had already escaped. Yusuf couldn’t hear anything, so the doe-eyed man had probably bolted. He probably wouldn’t get too far though. The man had looked like he would trip over any minute and pass out. The Crusader also didn’t know the forest they had been in, so the chances of him managing to escape were pretty slim. Yusuf didn’t know how long he had been unconscious, but he was confident in his skills to catch the man again.

_And why exactly do you want to find him so bad?_

Yusuf swatted the annoying thoughts away. It wasn’t that odd that he wanted to find the man again. The Crusader had just pushed him off a cliff, there was no way he would just let that go.

_Well to be fair you killed him like six times before that._

Fine, but the man was also his only lead on his sudden immortality. 

Yusuf looked down at his body. The sudden movement jiggled his brain around and made him wince. His head felt like a it had been trampled over by a horse, and there was a piercing pain behind his eyes, but it was slowly starting to numb a bit. Yusuf looked at his leg – that a while ago had been twisted backwards with a bone sticking out of the side – and noticed that it had managed to untwist itself and the wounds were starting to close. He glanced at his arm, which had also straightened itself back up, and decided that he had healed enough. He sat up slowly, his head screaming from pain throughout the whole process.

Yusuf blinked a few times after securing his sitting position. His sight had become blurred and was going dark. He shook his head, trying to force his brain to complete healing, and just breathed for a while.

After his vision came back, he took a proper glance at his surroundings. The rocks that were beneath him had been painted red by his blood. There was also some pink matter that looked like pieces of brain, but Yusuf refused to think about it too much. He glanced at the cliff he had been pushed from. It wasn’t too steep and there were big rocks lining the side of it. He could easily climb it back up. 

Yusuf grunted as he tensed up his muscles and forced his body to move. He stood up slowly, his legs shaking a bit. He walked over to the rock wall and started his climb back up.

As he was climbing, he tried to come up with a plan to find the Crusader. Yusuf had always been a good tracker. His father had taught him how to hunt even before he had learned to read. He had however been taught to hunt animals. Humans were more intelligent and knew how to cover their tracks. Although, during their long walk in the forest the Crusader had wobbled around – barely staying in his feet – stomping over every single twig and leaf that had come in his way. He probably hadn’t started being careful now.

Yusuf reached the edge and pulled himself over it. He made note of the fact that his legs had healed completely and there was only a distant ache in his head reminding him off his fall. He stood up and looked around. 

Like he had guessed, there was a noticeable trail going along the edge of the cliff. The Crusader hadn’t returned to the forest, instead he was probably trying to find a place to descend from the cliff safely. The man probably hadn’t had the time to think about the tracks he was leaving. He had been in hurry to escape.

Yusuf started to follow the trail. The other man hadn’t tried to cover his tracks at all. The ground was full of broken twigs and rustled leaves. Yusuf even spotted a place in the mud where the Crusader had clearly stumbled on his feet and fallen to the ground. Yusuf couldn’t stop the grin that spread on his face at the thought of that. 

After walking for about ten minutes, the cliff had started to silt. There weren’t too many rocks anymore, instead the ground was completely covered in grass. He found the place where the Crusader had descended into the valley and followed his tracks there. 

Once he got down, the tracks became more subtle. Not because the Crusader had suddenly realized that he might be followed, the ground had just become more even and there weren’t many plants or bushes. Yusuf searched around for a bit before finding the trail again and continued to follow it. The sun was high in the sky. It was probably noon. 

Yusuf arrived at the edge of a familiar forest and a calm smile returned to his lips. He had spent his whole childhood playing in these woods. The Crusader had made a grave mistake running in there.

Yusuf entered the woods, softening his footsteps, making sure to not make any sounds. He had a feeling that he was catching up to the Crusader. The man had been in such a bad shape that he couldn’t have been moving very fast. 

Then the tracks suddenly stopped. 

Yusuf stopped walking and looked around. He saw no indicators on which way the Crusader had gone. He burrowed his brow. Then man had to be nearby, unless he had grown wings suddenly. He had probably gone into hiding when he had realized that the Seljuk was catching up to him.

Yusuf took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and focused his hearing. 

He heard a silent rustle of leaves and opened his eyes. He smirked.

“You can come out now, I know you’re in here somewhere”, Yusuf said in a loud, steady voice. He wasn’t sure if the Crusader was Roman – the man had spoken Greek so that’s what Yusuf was using. He had learned the language from the merchants that had come into their village every now and then; selling fancy fabrics and oils to the ones who could afford them. Yusuf’s mother used to do business with them often. She would trade spices and wool for some wine and honey, and since Yusuf was the youngest child, she would always take him with her.

The Crusader didn’t look like the other Roman men Yusuf had met though. He had a fair skin and light blue eyes. His eyes were big and round like a woman’s, but his face was angular and masculine. His body was lean but packed with muscle, and when Yusuf had seen him fight on the battlefield, he had been agile like a gazelle and as deadly as snake. 

After Yusuf had pummeled him in the head with the mace, the man had significantly slowed down though. 

Yusuf turned around slowly, trying to pinpoint where the sound had come from. He was surrounded with trees and berry-bushes. The Crusader could be hiding in any of them.

“You don’t really think you can escape, do you?” Yusuf asked – amused, “Do you even know where you are?”

Yusuf heard some rustling to his right, and quickly spun to face the Crusader, only to see him jump out of a nearby brush, and bolt away. Yusuf watched – stunned – as the other man ran off into the woods. He didn’t know where the Crusader had gotten the energy to run like that. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe he had found something to eat in the forest. Yusuf didn’t spend any more time contemplating that though and instead chased after the man. 

The forest was getting thicker, trees growing closer to each other, the underbrush getting denser. Yusuf dodged them with ease, having navigated these woods his whole life, it was no challenge. The Crusader had some trouble though. He ran through the thinner branches, snapping them of from the trees, stumbling on his feet because of the roots and the moss. He also had no boots on, which meant that he had to be more careful with his footing. However, he had one advantage. Yusuf was carrying his heavy weapons and wearing his armor, while the Crusader only had to carry the thin clothes he was wearing. 

Yusuf was catching up to the man slowly, but whenever he was starting to get closer, the Crusader suddenly got a spike of adrenaline and bolted away from his grasps.

“You think you can run away from me, little gazelle?” Yusuf shouted after the Crusader, trying to intimidate him, but the man didn’t answer. He just kept on running.

Yusuf groaned and forced his legs to move faster. How in the hell was that malnourished punk going faster than him? Had he faked his exhaustion earlier? No, Yusuf would have noticed that. The only explanation was that the man was in such a state of panic, that he didn’t notice his fatigue anymore.

The Crusader was starting to disappear into the forest and Yusuf was barely seeing flashes of him anymore. Yusuf cursed under his breath. For a second he contemplated on leaving his father’s axe behind to increase his speed, but then he noticed a familiar fig tree ahead, and decided against it. He would catch up to the man soon enough.

The forest had started to thin out; fruit and nut trees were starting to be more frequent. Yusuf smirked; the Crusader was running right towards his village. They were almost at the fields. 

Too bad for the Crusader. While trying to escape, he had actually run straight to where Yusuf had been trying to take him. 

Yusuf ran past a couple more fig trees until he saw the Crusader standing at the edge of the forest. The man was looking at the fields. He had finally run out of stamina.

Yusuf didn’t slow down though, instead he used his momentum to slam straight into the Crusader and tackle him to the ground. The man let out a surprised yelp, before hitting the grass face first. Yusuf softened his fall a bit with his hands, so that he wouldn’t crush the Crusader. After gaining his balance, Yusuf sat on the other man’s back for the second time for the day and grabbed his wrists. He noted that the Crusader had somehow managed to get out of the ropes.

Yusuf leaned in close to the man’s ear.

“I caught you, little gazelle”, he whispered, tightening his grip. He wanted to make sure the Crusader wouldn’t bolt off again, even though he didn’t seem to be interested in doing that again. He wasn’t fighting back at all, just laying still.

Although that’s how he managed to kill Yusuf the last time. Faked being too exhausted to even walk straight and then shoved him off a cliff. Yusuf wasn’t going to fall for that again. 

The crusader mumbled something into the grass, but Yusuf couldn’t hear what it was.

“Speak up if you have something to say”, Yusuf commanded, leaning back a little so the other man could lift his head up.

“ _I said,_ there is smoke coming from that village over there”, the Crusader repeated himself, looking over at the fields again.

Yusuf also lifted his gaze up, following where the Crusader was looking at, over the fields and into his village. His home. 

There were smoke pillars rising in the sky.

Yusuf felt like his mind had frozen. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. He didn’t know how long he sat there, just looking. 

Then the Crusader broke the silence.

“Seems like our side won the battle and decided to advance”, the man said quietly. His voice was neutral. He wasn’t trying to taunt Yusuf; he was just stating a fact. 

Without answering, Yusuf released the Crusader’s wrists and slowly stood up. He took a few shaky steps towards the fields. 

There had been only women and children at the village. Everyone else had gone to the battle.

Before he had even registered what his legs were doing, Yusuf was already in the middle of the field running towards the village. He didn’t spare a single thought to the Crusader he had left laying at the edge of the forest. The man could run straight back to Rome for all he cared.

Maybe his mother had managed to get a horse before the army had reached the village? She could have been able to escape if she had just started running the second she had noticed the army approaching...

Yusuf clenched his jaw. There was no way his mother had run. She would have tried to fight, tried to save the other women. Maybe even given the horses to everyone else and tried to slow down the Crusaders on her own.

“That stubborn old witch...” Yusuf cursed under his breath, “You better be alive.”

Yusuf jumped over a trench and stumbled a bit on his feet. He had forgotten the axe hanging on his back and hadn’t taken its weight into account. He quickly regained his balance though and continued his way to the village. He tried to keep his head clear and his senses focused in case there were still soldiers occupying the village. 

The stone walls of the houses had gone grey with smoke, and some of the wooden roofs were still burning. Yusuf could see corpses paving the streets. Both women and children.

Yusuf yelled for her mother, but no one answered. He ran to the village square. The merchant’s tables had been thrown over; all the wares looted. There were small fires around the town and the ground had been painted with blood.

Yusuf took a few shaky breaths and looked franticly around. Looking for anyone alive. He shouted for his mother again, only getting silence in return. 

There were no soldiers left, only the corpses of his people.

Yusuf turned around and started running towards his family’s house. His father and brothers had surely been killed or captured in the battlefield, and he knew that there was no way his mother survived the Roman’s attack, but... He had to make sure.

He didn’t have to go inside the house, since as he arrived, he noticed a corpse laying in the garden. He slowed his footsteps and hopped over the low stonewall.

Yusuf looked at the woman laying on the ground between the flowers. Her headscarf had fallen off from her head, letting her dark curls loose. The hair was framing her face, flowing long and shiny like water. Her mouth was slightly open, frozen into a silent scream. Her eyes glazed and unmoving. The skirt was torn up to pieces, left to float around in the wind, leaving her unprotected. On her hand she was holding her husband’s hunting knife, drenched in blood.

There were no other bodies in the garden, but blood paved the ground in its red cloak. There was too much of it to be from one person only. His mother had taken some soldiers down with her. 

Yusuf walked next to the corpse and kneeled down. He lifted his hand to move a strand of hair from her mother’s face and closed her eyes gently. He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his face, planting a soft kiss on it. He laid the hand back down to her chest, took the hunting knife from her other hand, and placed it to hang from his own belt. 

Yusuf looked around for a bit, searching for her mother’s headscarf. When he found it buried underneath the flower’s, he took it and covered her body with it. The soldiers had shredded her dress, leaving her bare, but Yusuf wanted to return her dignity, if even a little. 

Yusuf sat there for a while, just staring at his mother. He had realized a long time ago that his father and brothers would die in battle someday. He had thought that he also would die fighting, and then follow them to the afterlife. He had accepted it and he had found joy in going to battle and fighting side by side with them. Even if it meant death.

He had never thought about the fact that his mother could also die.

It seemed unreal. His mother wasn’t supposed to die. She was supposed to stay home and worry about his sons dying. Not the other way around.

“I’m sorry I can’t do more for you...” Yusuf whispered, “I was too late.” He leaned down and planted a kiss on his mother’s forehead, before standing up and walking out of the garden.

As he walked through the smoke, rubble and corpses aimlessly, his head was completely blank. He had no idea what he was supposed to do next. According to some old honor code he was probably expected to start a revenge journey against the Romans, but he was only one man. His whole clan had either been killed or captured. And by the looks of it, the Romans would soon have invaded the whole Empire. How was he supposed to fight an army alone? There was honor in dying when avenging your family, but he couldn’t even do that anymore.

“Can’t kill them; can’t be killed by them...” Yusuf muttered to himself and chuckled a bit. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. 

He should probably bury the dead. That would be the right thing to do, and something even he would be capable of doing. He would need water and... Wait, no.

Yusuf stopped in his tracks as he realized something.

He couldn’t wash them. He was a man. And there were no women left alive to do it.

Yusuf groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wouldn’t be able to honor the dead as they deserved. He couldn’t undress the women. That wouldn’t be right. 

He contemplated for a while if he should bury them, even though he couldn’t perform the proper rituals, but then decided that leaving them exposed on the streets would be even worse. He could at least dig them graves, he just needed to find a spade.

He had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed walking to the edge of the town. He looked at the fields he had run through so many times, and his eyes begun to water. He blinked furiously, trying to force the liquid to go back to where it had come from, but he didn’t succeed. A single tear escaped his eye and fell down, leaving a salty trail on his cheek. 

“I am truly sorry that this had to happen”, a quiet voice said next to him. Yusuf didn’t have to look to know that the voice belonged to the doe-eyed Crusader. His voice was soft, almost like a breath in the wind.

Yusuf wiped the tear from his cheek. He felt annoyed that the Crusader had seen him cry, but the other man made no comments about that. 

“Why didn’t you run?” Yusuf asked, his voice hoarse from inhaling smoke. They were standing side by side, both looking at the fields.

“I don’t know”, the other man answered, burrowing his brow, “I felt like I was supposed to come here.”

Yusuf chuckled, glancing at the Crusader, who looked like a lost animal. Wide uncertain eyes trying to figure out their surroundings. Hollow cheeks, and dark circles under his eyes. Body covered in blood and dirt.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll kill you again?” Yusuf asked. The Crusader looked at him with his deep blue eyes and for a second Yusuf forgot how to breath.

“Not really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for all the comments and kudos! This chapter was a bit darker, but I promise it will get a bit cheerier as the boys will start to get to know each other. At least they didn’t kill each other this chapter so that’s positive... Please leave a comment! 
> 
> (Also, I don’t know why but the Author’s notes are all over the place in the wrong chapters... Hope that doesn’t bother you too much, you can just ignore the A/N underneath this one, they are from the previous chapters.)


	4. Hello, my name is...

Nicolo poked around in the debris with a stick and flipped over the rubble that had formed on top of the floor. The ceiling had collapsed earlier when the fire had burned its supporting beams. There were still kindlings around, but most of the fires had gone out when it had started raining. Nicolo looked up at the sky that was now visible through the collapsed ceiling. Dark clouds loomed over him, letting down tiny drops of rain. 

He was roaming around the destroyed village for looking someone alive but so far, he had only found bodies. Right now, he was searching around a tiny stone house in the middle of the village. He climbed a half-collapsed wall to the next room and glanced down as his feet hit something. 

They were a pair of shoes.

Nicolo crouched over an grabbed them eagerly, thinking he wouldn’t have to go around barefoot anymore, but he froze as he realized the shoes were too small for him.

Entirely too small.

Nicolo swallowed slowly as he let the tiny shoes fall back to the floor. He shook his head, trying not to think about the tiny feet that had belonged to those shoes and resumed his search. 

Nicolo walked further into the room, carefully placing his feet around the debris. His breathing had become shaky and every exhale send out a small cloud into the cold air. He stepped over a pile of rocks and through a doorway to the next room. He didn’t have to go any further.

In the middle of the room, underneath a heavy wooden beam, there was a tiny burned corpse laying on the floor. 

Nicolo had seen dead people many times before. You got used to it when you devote your life to the church. The sick and elderly searching for some hope and redemption from the priests. This was different however.

Nicolo dropped his stick to the floor and tiptoed his way to the corpse. He didn’t know why he was being so careful. It’s not like there was anyone to hear even if he stomped around like he owned the place. Maybe it was his way of shoving respect to the enemy. They had already died; he could afford some courtesy. 

_No. They weren’t enemies. Just innocent women and children going on with their lives._

Nicolo was pulled out of his thoughts when his foot bumped against the wooden beam. He looked at the child laying underneath it. His clothes and skin had mostly burned off, leaving an unpleasant smell of burning flesh lingering in the air. Nicolo grabbed the beam and pulled it off of him. It wasn’t very heavy; the fire had burned it down and weakened it significantly. Once he had heaved the beam to the floor, Nicolo picked up the child and carried him out of the ruins.

The rain had become weaker. The massive downpour form earlier had changed into a gentle drizzle. Tiny droplets fell to Nicolo’s skin, trying to cling onto him before slipping to the ground. Nicolo took a better grip of the child and started walking towards the fields. His feet splashed in the tiny puddles that were forming on the road. He had been trying to find some shoes form the village but every pair he had found had either been burned to pieces, or they were on the feet of some corpse. Nicolo didn’t feel like stealing from the dead, so he had let them be. 

After a while he arrived at the edge of the village. He stepped off the stoned road and walked over the wet grass. He arrived before a shallow trench and contemplated for while if he should jump over it. It wasn’t a long jump, but the corpse he was carrying was starting to feel heavy. 

“I can take him.”

Nicolo snapped his eyes away from the trench and onto the Seljuk that was now standing in front of him on the other side of the trench. Nicolo furrowed his brow, he hadn’t noticed the man walking over to him. They had made some type of peace for the moment, but the Seljuk still made him feel uneasy. Guess you can’t forget the feeling of a knife in your guts that easily. 

Nicolo nodded to the man, not saying anything. He stretched his hands out as much as he could, offering the corpse to the Seljuk. The man took a step forward, sliding his arms underneath the child. Nicolo pulled his own arms back slowly, and let the Seljuk take the corpse. 

Nicolo watched as the man turned around and walked back to the fields. 

After their unceremonious reunion, the Seljuk had started digging graves in the fields. He hadn’t asked for help, but Nicolo had felt like he had to do something. So, he had started rummaging around the village, carrying the dead to the fields, where the Seljuk buried them.

Nicolo spun around and made his way back to the village. They weren’t done yet.

\---

When the evening came, Nicolo had managed to carry all the bodies he had found to the fields. There hadn’t been too many. Maybe a dozen women and a few more children. The Seljuk had speculated that some of the villagers had probably been taken as prisoners, and some had tried to run. Nicolo didn’t tell him what the Crusaders did with their prisoners, and the Seljuk didn’t ask.

Nicolo was sitting in the middle of the field, leaning against a rock. The short hay tickled his naked feet, as it swayed in the wind. The rain had stopped completely, and the air was starting to feel warm again. 

Nicolo watched the Seljuk dig a grave a short distance away from him. The man had taken off his armor and braided his dark curls so they wouldn’t fall on his face. He was digging furiously, with no signs of stopping anytime soon. 

Nicolo closed his eyes and let his head rest against the coarse surface of the rock. He could go help with the digging, he probably should, but he couldn’t bring himself to move any longer. His muscles were tired and aching, his feet blistered and cold, the hunger in his stomach starting to rear its ugly head again. He had found some fruit in the forest earlier, but they hadn’t kept the emptiness in his stomach at bay for long. 

He listened to the quiet sounds of the spade hitting the soft ground and slowly slipped into a sleep.

\---

Nicolo woke up to the cackling of fire and the delicious smell off something cooking. He felt warm and dry, and the blisters on his feet had healed while he had slept. He opened his eyes slowly to look at the campfire burning in front of him. There were two birds on sticks cooking on top of it.

Despite the strong déjà vu he was feeling, Nicolo made note of the fact that at least he wasn’t tied up to that damned cedar tree again.

Nicolo glanced at his side, looking at the Seljuk sitting next to him.

“Did you cook for me too this time?” Nicolo asked, battling against a yawn trying to escape his mouth. The Seljuk glanced at him, that amused gleam back in his eyes. A wide smile rose to his face.

“Well you were so mad last time. Thought I could make some for you too”, he answered, his gaze wandering around Nicolo. Like he was searching for something.

Nicolo didn’t know what to think of it. He had noticed it before too, the intense look the Seljuk gave him. He didn’t know what it meant. In the forest he had assumed it was just blind hatred, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. Nicolo cleared his throat and pulled his eyes away from the dark once that were piercing him, instead focusing on the birds roasting on the flames. 

“What are those?” he asked, trying to lift the awkwardness. The Seljuk followed his gaze.

“Birds?” he answered and gave Nicolo an odd look. Nicolo huffed.

“I know what birds are. What kind are they?”

“Oh, they’re ducks.”

Nicolo didn’t know what he had expected, maybe something more exotic, but he wasn’t going to complain. Food was food. 

“How did you manage to catch them?” he tried to keep the conversation going. 

“I went back home to get some items and found a bow”, the Seljuk answered and shrugged. He sounded so calm about it. Like he hadn’t just walked through his destroyed hometown and buried his people. Nicolo wanted to ask him about it, but he felt like it wasn’t his business. 

“They actually seem to be ready”, the Seljuk declared and leaned closer to the fire. He grabbed the birds and leaned back again, offering the other one to Nicolo. 

Nicolo didn’t need to be offered twice. He grabbed the bird and started devouring it instantly, burning his mouth at the process. He had to remind himself to swallow every once in a while, and not just stuff the meat in his mouth. The Seljuk stared at him for a while, before bursting into laughter. Nicolo ignored him and continued shredding the bird with his teeth. The Seljuk shook his head and started eating too, although much more composed than his companion. 

“It’s not going to fly away anymore, you know?” The Seljuk jabbed, laughter still in his voice. Nicolo just grunted in return. He didn’t have time to waste on speaking.

They ate in silence (or in Nicolo’s case, while making disgusting mouth noises and loud inhales). Nicolo finished his meal first; sucking on the bones, trying to get every last piece of meat there was. The hunger had subsided mostly, although he still felt like he could eat more. 

After coming to the conclusion that the duck had nothing more to give to him, he threw the bones to the ground and wiped his greasy fingers to his shirt. The shirt was already ruined beyond repair and the only thing he could do with it (after getting a new one) would be to burn it. 

Nicolo leaned back and looked at the sky. The wind had blown away the clouds, and the stars were shining brightly. Half-moon had started to rise.

“So... What now?” Nicolo asked. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was asking, but he felt like they needed to talk. The situation was too absurd. Although they had helped each other throughout the day, you can’t just ignore hundreds of years of hatred and war just like that. 

The Seljuk stopped eating and turned his face to look at Nicolo, who in return looked intensely at the fire. He didn’t want to answer the other man’s gaze. It felt too intense. The Seljuk placed his half-eaten duck to the ground and lifted his hand towards Nicolo.

“How about an introduction?” the man asked, his voice low, almost a whisper. Nicolo finally turned to look at him. The man had a calm smile on his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Nicolo could see that the man had conflicting emotions about the hand he was offering. The Seljuk wasn’t sure this was a smart idea either.

Well no one had ever thought that Nicolo was that smart anyway so what the hell.

He lifted his hand slowly and placed it gently to the Seljuk’s. The other man closed his hand around his, and Nicolo noted the coarse touch that was burning hot against his own cool skin. 

“Yusuf Al-Kaysani.”

“Nicolo di Genova.”

Yusuf let his hand linger for a while, before releasing Nicolo’s. The Seljuk pulled his hand back slowly but didn’t turn his gaze away. Nicolo let his arm fall to his side and didn’t look away either.

“Why did you help me?” Yusuf asked, dark eyes piercing Nicolo, “You could have run away, but you decided to help me, why?”

Nicolo couldn’t look the man in the eyes anymore and instead turned to face the fire again. He felt like Yusuf could see inside of his head and read his thought. He could feel the dark eyes still looking at him. Wandering around his body.

“I don’t know”, Nicolo answered truthfully, “I just felt like there was no point in running anymore.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well it’s not like I know my way around these lands”, Nicolo sighed and waved at the woods with his hand, “and even if I made my way back home, _they_ would probably just crucify me for being a demon or something.” 

Saying it out loud forced Nicolo to accept the thoughts he had tried so hard to ignore. 

_I can never go back home._

He braced himself for the fear and panic that would surely kick in but... it never came. Instead he felt like a piece of him had fallen off. A hollow gap left into his chest, bleeding out to the foreign ground beneath him. He took a few shaky breaths, feeling out these intrusive thoughts that had now been surfaced.

_If I go back home, I will be killed. Except that they can’t kill me... So they will torture me for an eternity or -_

“Well, are you?”

Nicolo was pulled out of his spiraling thoughts by the Seljuk’s question. He blinked a few times, trying to figure out what the question was about.

“Am- am I what?” Nicolo managed to force himself to ask. The Seljuk glanced at him, with an amused smirk.

“Are you a demon?” he asked. Nicolo stared at him for a while, before realizing the man was trying to joke. Nicolo huffed in annoyance. 

How was it fair that the Seljuk was so calm and collected while Nicolo was having the crisis of a century?

“How are you so calm about this?” He voiced his thoughts through gritted teeth. Even though they had made peace, Nicolo felt like given the chance, he would probably throw the other man off a cliff again. 

Yusuf chuckled in return. 

“Well it’s not like things can go any worse”, the man hummed to himself with a low voice.

“They could still go much better”, Nicolo answered quickly. He had never been a confrontational guy, but suddenly he felt the urge to just fight someone. All the stress from the resent days had started to surface. 

“I don’t know about you, but my ideal life is not spending eternity in purgatory, not being able to move on”, Nicolo said, squeezing his fists. Maybe it would be good if they got into a fist fight. Neither of them could die and they would get to vent their frustrations. Although Yusuf didn’t seem frustrated, which annoyed Nicolo even more.

“Hmm, I knew a long time ago I wouldn’t be accepted to Paradise”, the Seljuk said, his smile changing ever so slightly into something undefined.

The air suddenly felt colder. 

Nicolo opened his fists, hands slumping heavy against his sides. There was a chill going up his spine and he suddenly didn’t feel like fighting anymore. 

He wanted to ask. He had never wanted to ask anything more than that. He needed to know what could make the Seljuk look like that. The pained expression that had taken ahold of the smiling man’s face frightened Nicolo more than anything he had ever felt.

Yusuf must have noticed the sudden shift in Nicolo’s mood and decided to explain.

“There was an... incident a while ago. And I ended up disappointing everyone. I- I was supposed to prove my worth at the battlefield and earn my place back, but - Well you know what happened there”, he chuckled, “It’s in the past, no need to mull over it now that they’re all dead.”

Nicolo nodded slowly. He knew Yusuf wouldn’t tell him more than that. He had already explained more than Nicolo was entitled to. 

An awkward silence fell between them. The Seljuk grabbed the duck he had placed on the ground and started nibbling it absentmindedly. Nicolo stared at the dancing flames, trying to figure out what to say. 

Then he remembered what Yusuf had told him earlier. 

“You said you got some items from your house. What did you get?” he asked carefully. Yusuf didn’t seem to mind his clumsy attempt at changing the subject. The Seljuk reached for something on the ground with his free hand and lifted up a sword.

“Oh, I just got some of my weapons”, he said, the corner of his mouth lifting just a little for a gentle smile, “No reason to leave them here anymore.” He placed his meal back to the ground and used his now freed hand to pull the sword out of its sheath – just enough for Nicolo to catch a glimpse of the blade – before pushing it back in and carefully placing it on the ground. 

“I thought you fight with an axe”, Nicolo blurted out. Yusuf laughed.

“It was my grandfather’s. He wanted me to take it with me to the battle and use it to restore my honor. I’m actually more used to fighting with this”, he answered while pointing at the sword beside him, “I’m going to leave the axe here, where it belongs.”

“Well, if you ask me you didn’t seem to have any problems waving that huge thing around”, Nicolo jabbed. He tried to make it sound like he was joking, but his voice ended up sounding just a little too sour.

“Ahh, good times”, Yusuf answered, winking at Nicolo.

Nicolo huffed in return and turned back to the fire. His cheeks were starting to feel warm and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the fire or the Seljuk, but he hoped the other man wouldn’t notice them in the dark. It seemed unfair that Yusuf didn’t mind even though Nicolo was making fun of him. He just smiled and stayed calm. The only time Nicolo had seen him get mad was back in the forest when the Seljuk hadn’t been able to kill him.

Nicolo quickly forced his mind to stop thinking about the things that had happened between them. It was no use of thinking about them now.

“Oh right, I almost forgot. I also got you something”, Yusuf said and reached for something in his coat. 

“You got me a... knife?” Nicolo asked in disbelief as Yusuf pulled the said object out of his coat. Was the Seljuk really giving him a weapon? Why?

“Well, you probably need something to protect yourself with”, Yusuf just shrugged and handed Nicolo the weapon. Nicolo slowly pulled it closer and studied its ornated hilt.

“My mother was holding it when I found her. Probably used it to take a couple of those Roman bastards with her”, Yusuf chuckled. Nicolo glanced at him sourly but didn’t comment on the offence on his people. Yusuf had just lost his family after all. 

“Then why are you giving it to me? Don’t you want to keep it if it belonged to your mother?” Nicolo asked. Yusuf shook his head.

“I don’t need a reminder of the fact that I couldn’t save her”, he said with a smile that made Nicolo’s chest feel tight, “The knife didn’t help my mother, but maybe it will help you.”

Nicolo wanted to argue with that, but instead he just thanked the man quietly. Maybe giving him a weapon was the Seljuk’s way of showing that he was free to go. Nicolo was no longer his prisoner and could leave if he wanted to. 

“You can stab me if you want, but I was hoping we had already gotten past that”, Yusuf chuckled. As tempting as the thought had been a while ago, Nicolo was far too tired to start fighting now. 

Also, he probably couldn’t get past the other man’s reflexes to even get the knife close to him.

Nicolo shook his head and placed the knife on the ground.

“I don’t have any desire to fight you anymore”, he answered. The Seljuk’s smile widened. 

“Oh? I thought it was your life duty to smite us heathens”, Yusuf said innocently. Nicolo felt the anger flare up in his chest again. He clenched his fists and took a few sharp breaths, forcing himself to calm down. The Seljuk was clearly just teasing him. There was no reason to take it personally.

Nicolo unclenched his jaw and slowly opened his fists. He took a deep breath and turned to face the other man properly. Yusuf had a smirk on his lips and there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you wanted me to stab you”, Nicolo said, narrowing his eyes.

“Maybe I do.”

“And why would you want that?”

“Maybe it would make me feel less guilty about what I did to you.”

Nicolo paused at that. He hadn’t realized that what had happened in the forest was bothering Yusuf too.

“There is nothing to feel guilty about. We were enemies. We both killed each other”, Nicolo mumbled. He had felt no guilt about throwing the other man off the cliff.

Yusuf sighed.

“I kept you a prisoner. I killed you multiple times and left you cold and hungry. Hell, I even took your shoes”, the man ranted, waving at said feet. Nicolo glanced at his naked toes that had turned completely brown from the mud and dirt. It would take a while to scrub all off that grime off.

“And even after all of that”, Yusuf paused for a while and glanced at Nicolo before continuing, “you still helped me.”

Nicolo stared at the Seljuk, who was looking at him with a serious look on his face. The man’s thick black eyebrows were knitted together in a frown, and the corners of his mouth were turned down. The man looked so miserable that Nicolo couldn’t stop the laughter that started to pour out of him. 

“Why are you laughing?” Yusuf asked, furrowing his brow deeper. Nicolo burster out into a full laughter. 

“It’s just weird seeing you so serious!” Nicolo managed to wheeze out between his laughs. The confused look on the Seljuk’s face just made him laugh harder. Yusuf stared at him for a while before his lip started to quiver a bit, and soon he was laughing too. 

They sat there for a while, laughing. Nicolo wasn’t sure why. Maybe the situation was just so absurd and stressful that they had both finally gone insane. 

Nicolo left out a few more chuckles before calming down. Yusuf had already stopped laughing and was watching him, with that gentle smile back on his lips. 

“You’re strange”, the man hummed.

“You’re one to talk.”

A comfortable silence fell between them and for the first time in a couple of days, Nicolo felt calm. He leaned back into the rock behind him and started at the flames dancing lazily in their campfire.

After a while Yusuf started singing quietly in his native tongue. Nicolo listened to the somber song and tried to battle against his eyelids but they suddenly felt too heavy. The soft song carried him into the sweet embrace of sleep, where he dreamed of fig trees and brown gentle eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeah sooo, I know this is super late but I had some trouble with my thesis that has been consuming my whole life lately (but I finished it finally YAY!). Anyways new chapters should now be coming a bit faster now that I have my life in order again hmmm. Next chapter should have more action, this chapter was a bit talk heavy but I looooooove to write dialogue. Also the boys finally found out each other's names (YAY). Thank you for reading and please leave a comment! (If there are author's notes uderneath this one you can just ignore them... ao3 has been placing them in wrong chapters lately)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thank you for reading! I’m in the middle of writing my thesis and I definitely shouldn’t be starting a fic, but after watching The old guard on Netflix, I had to get all the feelings that these boys gave me out... I have not read the comics, so this story will not be canon to them. I have only seen the movie, but I fell in love with Nicky and Joe instantly and had to write about how they found each other! TT-TT
> 
> Also, a disclaimer, I’m not a historian nor religious. I’ve stretched the facts of history and religion a bit to fit into this story. If this offends you, I suggest you go read another story. This story is not meant to account the events of history accurately, if you want that, you can go read a history book. This fic is just meant to be a fun love-story.  
> English is also not my first language, so I apologize if there were any grammatical errors. There are no gendered pronouns in my language so if I gender the boys wrong, just know it’s on accident. For some reason my brain defaults to “her” when writing pronouns. *facepalm*
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, if you did (or didn’t), please leave a comment! :)


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